


When the Snake Sings

by Rainbownomja



Series: Writers Month 2019 Prompts [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Changing Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley changes his last name (but still goes by Crowley), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Past, Past Feelings, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Fall (Good Omens), Pre-Fall (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Voice changes, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-12 02:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbownomja/pseuds/Rainbownomja
Summary: Crowley has changed more times than he can count. But here are five time that he remembers the most.Not featured: Crowley actually singing.





	When the Snake Sings

**Author's Note:**

> Writers Month Prompt: Sound 
> 
> Alternate idea: The difference in Crowley's mumbles across different situations (let me know if that interests y'all too)

1) Pre-Fallen

Crowley bounced between the gender binaries God had created, as such their voice was lighter, but held a bit of bite to it. The difference was subtle, for instance when Crowley spoke of their work, or glanced up at the stars and felt their heart beat even though it didn’t need to...

And when Lucifer was right, and everyone knew it. Their bit back hiss in his defense was still the same Angel. And yet not. Why should they not be allowed to ask questions. What gave God the right to keep them in the dark. Why should they be mindless puppets and carry out unfair and unwarranted punishments to creatures that don’t deserve it. 

Crowley's voice before the fall was full of faith and love. 

2) Eden 

Crowley had not spoken in Hell in a number of decades. Their duties did not necessitate it. But then they were sent to Eden and learned that the hiss they’d last used was now their entire tone. Vocal chords impossible in snakes stretched as they practiced among the brush. Watching Adam, and Eve. Eve was the more curious of the two, and she was not happy being stuck where she was. 

Much like many things Crowley had seen in this demonic life of theirs, they understood. Their whispers to her were not meant to be menacing, she deserved experiences. And one apple couldn’t hurt. 

But it did. And then their vocal chords felt like sandpaper as they painted on a mask for the Guardian of the Eastern Gates. Crowley remembered the Angel, but the memory was fuzzy. The words on their tongue felt tainted, but they were a demon after all. Lying was what they were meant to do. So sarcasm and indifference danced between the letters and the Angel believed that Crowley was not suffering. Then, he explained the loss of his holy weapon and Crowley wondered if there was more to the Angels left over than they thought. 

After the fall, Crowley's voice was a lie they'd never wanted to maintain. 

3) 10 Years Before the Apocalypse

Crowley changed so often in the 6,000 years since Eden. Although his identity was fluid, he didn’t feel like the act of speaking was a falsehood he'd created anymore. His relationships were liquid between his fingers but that punishment only hummed in the back of his head. 

Being a Nanny felt like a return. His pitch a handful of octaves too high, but hair, and clothing, and behavior all in line with who Crowley was before. With a hint of demonic fuckery that she loved so much. 

Lullabies flowed easily from Nanny’s lip, the melodies soft and sweet. Stories had characters each with their own personality that Crowley'd felt before. Warlock was a sweet boy, and holding him in her arms created healing she used to be able to do on her own. She loved her charge, and that love was real, and vocal. 

10 years before the apocalypse, Crowley wondered if she could find true reality again. 

4) 1 Day (maybe a handful of hours) before the Apocalypse 

His knees were painted with ashes, some might be his angels but he’d never know for sure. A scream of terror tore through his throat without even thinking, inky tears streaked down his cheeks and disappeared into the ground beneath him. The fire did not matter to him, it was no worse pain than falling. No what hurt more than that, was the feeling of emptiness in his chest. The lack of holy light in his soul that his angel supplied that squashed his lungs and took his breath hostage. 

He prayed and begged in his mind. Outside he swore revenge, through stinging tears and heartbreak, knowing that they’d killed his best friend. They’d stolen the last thing he had in Heaven, Earth, and Below. 

Without him, Crowley’s voice was stomped into the ground and burned at the stake. 

5) 6 years Post-notacolypse 

Crowley Fell was a name that was only partially a secret. By secret, really it was Above and Below alone that had no knowledge of it. In South Downs Cottage, Crowley Fell wrapped himself around his husband, and life was easy. 

There was a song in the whistles that came from the kitchen in the morning when breakfast was served for Aziraphale. A delightful hum to the sound of their feet crunching on sand along the beach at dawn. A lullaby in Aziraphale’s breath echoing in his ear as Crowley laid on his chest. Crowley did not have to hide anymore, his eyes were a mark of who he really was, his voice, the melody of him that only his angel could harmonize with. 

After the end of days, Crowley was whole again. And he would sing until the end of time as nobody but himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please leave me a comment and a kudos! I'd love to hear from you. 
> 
> Want to follow my work including originals? Follow me on Tumblr @AvalonPendragonWrites
> 
> See you tomorrow!


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